


To Have and To Hold

by fractualized



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Captivity, Jarley - Freeform, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Unhappy Ending, referenced sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractualized/pseuds/fractualized
Summary: The aftermath of John and Bruce's first night together isn't what either of them expect.
Relationships: John Doe/Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 16
Kudos: 59





	To Have and To Hold

**Author's Note:**

> I probably shouldn't post something kinda unsettling for Batman Day, but here it is!

John had never been more comfortable in his life– at least in the half of it he could remember. A "bed" at Arkham consisted of a thin, lumpy mattress on a squeaky metal frame, with threadbare sheets and a scratchy blanket. Then on the outside, the accommodations at the carnival and subway station were hardly better.

This pillow was like a marshmallow cradling his head. When he shifted his body, his skin slid over smooth silk. The fluffiest comforter ever made kept him warm.

Though he could be a bit warmer, he thought, stretching his arm to the other side of the bed. He finally opened his eyes when he found he was alone under the blanket, pulled up just over his nose.

He shifted his gaze from the empty pillow to the side of the king-size bed, and found Bruce sitting there, facing the white, early morning light from the enormous windows. Bruce had put his tight boxers back on, and he braced his hands on the mattress. His leg jittered up and down. That was a tad concerning, but John couldn't help that his eyes were drawn to the scars decorating Bruce's bare torso.

As he remembered how all those marks felt under his curious fingertips, he shook in silent giggles and his mouth split into a grin. He didn't want to get up, but he wanted to be closer to Bruce. He pulled himself across the mattress with both hands, halfway out from under the comforter, and rested his head on that shaking thigh, bringing it to rest. He smiled up at Bruce. Bruce stared blankly back.

"That was intense, right?" John laughed, draping one arm behind his head, across both of Bruce's knees. "Definitely not how I expected the night to go!"

After running errands for Harley, he and Bruce had snuck out for a bite to eat. John absolutely loved having one-on-one time. He was still nervous about acting like a total dope around one of the most impressive people he'd ever met, but Bruce never made him feel stupid. Bruce didn't jab him with barely veiled remarks or outright degrade him. Bruce asked what he meant, what he thought, how he felt. Bruce smiled and sometimes even laughed at his jokes.

Bruce made John feel good, which made him the perfect person to give advice. If John could make Harley feel good, she'd want to be closer to him, if not at least nicer to him. To best learn how that advice would play out, John had gotten Bruce to roleplay as Harley. It was just supposed to be during dinner, but the lesson was so much fun that they'd kept going, taking a walk through a nearby park, and…

John wasn't sure when exactly, but at some point Bruce had switched their roles. Instead of explaining to John how to woo and letting him practice, Bruce demonstrated, and it was John feeling all the butterfly feelings he wanted Harley to feel. He paid close attention to Bruce's flirty expressions, his low tones, his earnest compliments.

The compliments obviously referred to John– his glimmering green eyes, lustrous hair, even _alabaster_ skin, oh my– but surely that was just to help give clear-cut examples! And referring to John by his own name was an understandable slip, one John didn't care to correct. And the touching, that was just part of the deal, to know how nice it felt when someone stroked their thumb along the inside of his wrist, slid their arm around his waist, cupped his face with their hand.

Kissed him carefully, like he was something irreplaceable, before going deeper, like he was something to be devoured.

That was _probably_ the point when John realized Bruce had dropped the roleplay entirely.

Definitely before they were back in Bruce's car with their hands down each other's pants.

John buried his face in Bruce's thigh and broke into more giggles as the rest of the night scrolled through his brain. The laughter smoothed into a pleased hum when Bruce's fingers weaved into his hair. John wiggled a little to feel the sheets again.

"Hmm, I have no idea why you don't opt to hide out with us and the rats," he sighed.

Bruce didn't reply. John looked up. Bruce still wasn't smiling.

That was odd, John suddenly realized, on a delay like always, and the serenity rapidly cracked, because this whole situation was odd. Bruce Wayne falling for a complete nobody? Did John actually think that kind of thing happened? Did he think this was serious, that it was any different than the curious orderlies? Bruce was nicer, sure, and he'd clearly wanted John to have fun, but fun was all this was. Earth to John: review the definition of playboy!

John pushed off of Bruce's leg and sat up, facing the far wall. He pulled the comforter up over his chest.

"Man, what a night!" he said shrilly. He attempted a casual laugh that came out chattering and weak. "We really got carried away with our little game, huh?"

What a dumb thing to say. John barely had friends, but he knew friends didn't get 'carried away' like this. Yet Bruce was one of the best friends he'd had. John couldn't lose him. He had to salvage this situation.

"I definitely, uh, learned a lot. Thanks!" Harley. He could still get Harley, even if she wasn't as nice as Bruce, nowhere near nice enough to make John feel as wanted and enveloped and–

Bruce's sudden grip on John's upper arm edged on too tight, which only bothered John because it reminded him of Bruce holding him close, of opening himself up to that all-encompassing ache _like a naive idiot._

But then Bruce asked, quietly, "This meant something, right?" 

John looked at him and forgot to breathe for a second. Bruce's expression was open now, anxious and raw, and it was such a stark change that John didn't know what to say. After a moment, Bruce blinked. He still looked all fretful, glancing around nervously, but he loosened his grip, hand sliding to John's elbow. John could finally laugh.

"Yeah!" he said, tipping Bruce's face toward his. "Of course! Oh, jeez, pal, you… you had me worried for a second there. I thought… I don't know."

Bruce grabbed John's chin and leaned in for a firm kiss. "I'm sorry. I have a lot on my mind."

After all the emotional whiplash, John focused on the warmth the kiss planted in his chest. "Sure, of course, a busy guy like you. What about?"

"About us," Bruce admitted.

John nodded slowly, realigning his thoughts. "I'm not your typical paramour, I know. I don't mind keeping quiet– well, figuratively. Pretty hard to keep quiet last night, ha!"

Bruce couldn't be linked too easily to the Pact, or to criminals in general, John got that. Keeping their relationship out of sight didn't make for the greatest love story, but Bruce did obviously like John a lot, and oh, wasn't there a special thrill in being Bruce Wayne's _secret lover?_ And a mean thrill, when John thought of the Pact side of things,of the angry bewilderment on Harley's face when he showed up on Bruce's arm. She'd want to have a little chat, and John would happily oblige. He'd tell her that he knew how he should be treated now, that he didn't like being a toy for her amusement, not when he could be a toy for–

"What if," Bruce said, cupping John's face, "we were together out in the open?"

This was a hell of another loop to be thrown for. "Heh, what? Uh, your high-society reputation is already pretty rocky. Everyone's gonna know you're up to something if you date an amateur crook." He shook his head. "Plus the time for risks is over now that we have the tech, Harley said. We've got to keep our heads down."

"What if we said 'screw it' to all of that?"

"What?"

"You have minimal liability. With my influence, I could probably get you remanded into my custody, and then–"

"Wait." John's excitement drained away. "Ditch Harley and the guys?"

"What are you getting out of that situation?"

Bruce asked that so easily, and John bristled. "I told you. I had a very dark time in Arkham, and Harley… Harley was the only one who saw past the show I put on for Dr. Leland." John pulled away. "I can't just _abandon_ her."

"You said yourself she doesn't even know how to spell your name."

"Well, so what? That doesn't mean she hasn't done anything for me, and she and the others are showing me how I can get by."

"And how to get put away."

"That's just– just the class of people we are!" The sudden tension in John's body already pulsed in his head. Harley had taught him so much over the past few months. She wasn't as nice or easy to love as Bruce, but she had stuck with him for longer. Even if John changed his mind about the way he loved her, he couldn't just _leave_.

The morning had started out so exciting and fun, but now he just felt jumbled and put upon, with this monster decision thrown at him. Their affair was over as soon as it had started, and the disappointed look on Bruce's face made that realization even more upsetting, but John couldn't… He just couldn't.

He slid to the edge of the bed and looked for his clothes. "I'm gonna– I should get back–"

"Wait." Bruce got up and quickly rounded to John's side of the bed, gathering things from the floor. "I know I can convince you," he said as he tossed the other man's clothes onto the comforter.

John watched him walk to the drawers along the wall and grab a pair of lounge pants. "Are we going somewhere?"

Bruce's mouth pressed together in a grim line as he pulled the pants on. "Just downstairs," he said hurriedly. "Come on."

"Okay, uh…." John giggled nervously. "Just a second for the bathroom?"

A few minutes later, he was following Bruce down the steps to the grand entryway and then over to the parlor. As Bruce opened the doors, John heard a faintest echo of a step and looked back. The manor's butler, Alfred Pennyworth, stood at the mouth of the hall across the way. Both of his eyebrows were way up, and John waved before joining Bruce in the parlor.

He'd wanted a formal introduction to Alfred one day, but now it seemed pointless. John was well-aware that, on top of all the sweetness, Bruce could give him a lavish place to stay and a ludicrous allowance. Whatever Bruce wanted to show him– stores of cash or maybe literal treasure– wouldn't change the other facts John had laid out.

Bruce was fiddling with the face of a grandfather clock against the parlor's far wall.

"That's, uh, nice?" John said. "But I don't know what…"

The clock slid aside, revealing a doorway.

"In here," Bruce said, walking in.

John's heart pitter-pattered with glee. A bona fide secret passageway? How cool! What could… Oh. He stopped at the opening. "Uh, buddy, believe me, I'm more than happy to be a subject in your den of fantasies, but that's not gonna change the situation."

The passage wasn't long, and at the end, Bruce stood on a railed platform. He turned with an impatient look. "It's not a sex dungeon."

John raised a skeptical eyebrow– Bruce was only wearing those loose pants and slippers– and went in, stopping at Bruce's side. If this lovely libertine actually did want to prove his point with a few kinks, why shouldn't John get his fill while he could?

When the elevator ride ended and the scissor gate at the bottom slid open, John had his answer.

As he walked out, the taps of his shoes on the metal floor echoed upward, where a trail of bats swirled around the stalactites. This platform and several others were connected by catwalks and stairs, mostly anchored on the rock walls and floor at the level of the elevator, though John could see a steep drop below the center of it all. He stopped there and slowly turned, taking in the computer with the spinning bat logo, the sleek black car and its ramp to the surface, and the well-lit armory with the batsuits and batarangs. He felt like he'd float into the yawning space around him.

He faced the computer again when he came to a stop. His eyes went wide and he gripped his hair with both hands. "This makes so much sense!"

Quiet footsteps approached. "You see? I can protect you."

John turned, lowering his hands. Bruce stood in front of him, waiting. John looked from the angry scars over Bruce's chest to the batsuits on display, and he could see now how well Bruce fit into them. That's where that dark intensity went, not into crime for power or cheap thrills, but into stopping the kind of people who killed his parents– who were his parents.

"Oh. Ohhhh no." John couldn't stop the giggles now and twisted his hands together. "I mean, this still… Brucie, _Batsy_ , pal, I can't just… Whoa, man, has this gotten complicated! So you haven't… You've been 'helping' us to stop us."

"It is complicated. The Agency knows who I am, and they've blackmailed me, but regardless, I have to stop the Pact from hurting people." Bruce touched John's elbow as he had before. "But you've just been along for the ride so far. You don't have to be like Harley and the rest. You haven't hurt anyone."

What a technicality. Not to mention… "We said no more lies."

"I know. I'm sorry, but do you understand?"

Sure, John understood. He'd followed Batman closely since his debut. There was no reason for the hero to let a little pinky swear stop him from derailing dastardly deeds.

But Bruce– Batman!– was supposed to be John's buddy, and he'd had ulterior motives this whole time.

But they were something other than buddies now, as the happy little aches in John's body reminded him.

Bruce looked so sincere with those sad puppy eyes. When he took John into his arms, John didn't push him away. He laid his head on Bruce's shoulder.

"Please," Bruce murmured.

"I get it," John managed to say, but his head was swimming, maybe drowning, overwhelmed by the waves of revelations since he woke up.

"So you'll stay?"

John chuckled low in his throat. He looked up at that dreamy, mesmerizing gaze. "It must be a hell of a thing for somebody to say no to you."

"Are you saying yes?"

It was too noisy in John's head. "I can't…"

Bruce kissed him again, a pleading last ditch effort, and John closed his eyes, laying his hands on Bruce's bare chest, wishing he could just give in. What a pair they would make, with Bruce so much more messed up than John had bargained for, but more amazing, but not who he thought he was. Harley, on the other hand, was just who John thought she was, and again, was he just supposed to leave her to Batman? Everything was so mixed up.

Then clarity hit with a cold and tight jolt. John looked down to see a bat-shaped cuff on his wrist, its partner closed around the catwalk railing.

"Hey!" he exclaimed as Bruce stepped back. John rattled the cuff against the bar.

"This is for your own good," Bruce said sternly, but his gaze flickered.

John stared at him. "Ha! What? This is…" He rattled some more. "Heh, you're kidding. I get it. Not really?"

Bruce didn't crack a smile.

"What the hell, buddy?!" John snapped, trying to push the cuff over his hand. 

"You just need more time," Bruce replied stiltedly. "Calm down–"

"Time?" John yanked as hard as he could now. "You're gonna keep me down here?!"

"Just–just calm down. You'll be fine."

"Ha! Just fine, no biggie, just being held captive, my absolute fave thing after being stuck in the loony bin forever!"

"Stop jerking around like that! You'll hurt yourself!"

John lashed out with his free arm, his fist just barely missing Bruce as he dodged. "I'll hurt _you_ , you two-faced creep! 'Force for good,' my butt!"

"This is better than the alternative." Bruce replied resolutely.

So sure of himself! A hysterical laugh burst past John's lips before he swallowed the rest, because he did have to calm down, think this through. He used his breathing exercises just like Dr Leland taught him in the asylum, though they were supposed to be for soothing reckless impulses and keeping your cool around unstable…

Okay, maybe this was a lot like Arkham.

But he'd gotten through plenty of scrapes there, with all kinds of maneuvers and tricks. It would be okay. It would be okay.

"That's it," Bruce said, watching John pull in shaky breaths and release them steadily . "Everything is going to be fine."

This time John's laugh was thin. His eyes teared up. "Ah, Bruce, this really…" He shook the cuff again, lightly this time. "This is bringing back memories of some not-good times, and I, uh…" His breathing came a little rougher. "Some of what the docs and orderlies did was legit, but some of it was just to keep us in line or out of the way, you know?"

Some of that puppy look crawled back into Bruce's eyes. "This is nothing like that," he insisted. "I'm not going to hurt you. I would never do that."

John clung to the railing with both hands, blinking down at the abyss. He closed his eyes.

"I promise," Bruce said. He hugged John from behind. "Shhh. This is just for… a little while." John squirmed in the embrace. Bruce didn't let go. "Hey, just breathe with me, okay? In… out… Like that."

Their breathing and the tings of the handcuffs were the only sounds for a few minutes.

"Do you feel better?" Bruce asked. "This is drastic. I know that. But you only just got your freedom, John, and you'll lose it again if you go back to the Pact. I know it's exciting, compared to sticking with therapy and meds, but think about the long-term. Think about what we could have here." He smoothed one hand over John's hair. "Whatever you need, I can get it for you."

"Anything?" John asked.

"Of course."

"I want _out of here._ "

John turned and socked Bruce in the face, ignoring the flash of pain in his dislocated thumb. Bruce stumbled back and John made a beeline for the elevator, his steps thundering in the cave.

He didn't make it far before Bruce's weight slammed into him. John's body flung forward, the heels of his hands and his chin banging into the floor. Bruce rose up and jammed his palm into John's back, but John pushed up and twisted before he could be pinned, toppling Bruce behind him. John flung his arm around, his fist catching Bruce's nose, then drove his elbow back into Bruce's stomach. He scrambled to his feet.

Bruce's hand snagged his ankle and yanked him down again. John flipped over and brought up his knee before Bruce could descend on him, though Bruce pushed forward anyway, grabbing at John's wrists. John flailed, snarling, trying to shove off the bigger man's weight with one leg. His other leg was pinned by Bruce's calf.

Bruce suddenly growled and threw all his weight down, knocking John's head back, but John glared past the blooming stars and refused to give up.

And Bruce… got up and ran?

For the elevator.

John turned onto his front, crouched like a sprinter, and his fingertips scraped along the metal floor as he burst into a run. As he narrowed the gap from Bruce's head start, he threw his arm out, swiping at Bruce's bare shoulder. He wished Bruce had put on a damn shirt, and he reached again–

The elevator gate nearly cut through his fingers.

The two men stared at each other through the diamond-shaped holes, both breathing hard. Bruce's nose was bleeding, leaving twin trails down his chin. John's exhales turned into chuckles. Woo, okay, this had gotten out of hand, hadn't it? And if _John_ could see that, Bruce definitely–

"Computer, initiate lockdown protocol B-2!" Bruce shouted.

"Lockproto-what?" John said dumbly, and then he heard a series of whirs.

He turned and watched metallic screens wrap around the trophy cases and shutters close over the weapons displays. "LOCKDOWN" flashed on the batcomputer's main screen, and its chair and table descended into the floor. At the start of the batmobile's exit ramp, two massive doors began to slide in from either side.

John's instincts had him running for it before his brain caught up, not that he disagreed with the move. The doors didn't move too fast, so there was a chance that he could make the distance before–

He slammed his fists against the metal, staring at the open space that was just a few inches wide, too small to squeeze through and getting smaller. The distant circle of daylight up the ramp mocked him until the exit clanged shut in front of his nose.

He whirled around. The elevator was rising. He bolted back across the catwalks.

"Bruce! Wait!" John stopped when the car ascended out of sight. He sucked in lungfuls of air before screaming, "What are you even doing?!"

This wasn't how people in love treated each other. Maybe TV was fantasy, but it was popular fantasy, the ideal. What John and Bruce had last night was ideal. _This_ was just… just… not.

John's thumb throbbed. The bats shrieked overhead.

* * *

Alfred's bewildered stare pinned Bruce against the clock face. The butler held a tray with a steaming kettle, two cups, and an assortment of tea bags.

Searching Bruce's blood-streaked expression, Alfred spoke carefully. "I saw you two come down, so I thought I'd…"

Bruce's mind spun with responses, explanations, but he couldn't grab one. His stomach felt like a pit.

"You showed him the cave?" Alfred said, sounding sick himself.

"I… I needed to convince him, that he didn't need to go back…"

"And where…" Alfred paused. With stilted movements, he put the tray on the pool table and stood with his back to Bruce. "You have known this man for so little time, and you think..." He turned. "What are you thinking?"

"I can't leave him with the Pact."

"So you trapped him in the cave?!"

"He can't access anything. I activated–"

"You've kidnapped him!"

"I can't let him tell the Pact who I am!"

"Which he only knows because of– of your recklessness! After one night with him, you decided–"

"I've been undercover with him for weeks."

"Exactly," Alfred snapped. "You've been _lying to him_ – and his entire circle– for weeks. It's the exact reason you shouldn't have brought him back here in the first place, much less laid out the secret that will upend our entire lives."

"John wouldn't… He's…" Off-beat, exciting, accepting, perfect.

"Bruce…" Alfred's tone changed back to careful, wary. "This is… It's beginning to seem like a pattern. Your attachment to Ms. Kyle grew very quickly–"

"John's different," Bruce cut in. John hadn't grown dependent on a life of crime in the way that Selina had. Bruce could tell from all the time he'd spent with the Pact. John was looking for purpose and thought he'd found it in the way Harley courted danger. Bruce could offer so much more than that, better than that, and John had to know it. Their night together didn't have the excitement of a bar brawl, but it had the thrill of sneaking out together, playing together, falling into bed together. And John didn't think that was all just in good fun.

Bruce drew himself up and stepped away from the clock. "Say what you want. John knows now, so we can't let him leave until… until he understands. And I won't let him get caught up in the raid."

"And you think Director Waller," Alfred responded tightly, "won't ever find out where John went? People will notice when he reappears. He's too distinctive. Unless you…"

"I'm not going to keep him down there forever. And he hasn't… He's aided and abetted, but I can work with that, negotiate with Waller."

"Negotiate for what?" Alfred burst. "You're supposed to detach from her as effectively as possible."

"And I will." Bruce headed for the entrance hall. "I just need time to plan."

"You can't expect me to–"

"I expect you to feed him," Bruce said sharply over his shoulder as he stopped in the doorway. "Use the dumbwaiter system. And keep an eye on him with the auxiliary monitors upstairs." He raised an eyebrow at Alfred's stony expression. "What else would you do, Al? Let him go with our 'upending' secret?"

The old man waited a beat before replying, resigned. "No, sir. I suppose not."  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> And lo, the stalker becomes the stalkee!
> 
> I have absolutely no idea where this would go, so do not count on a follow up. Just an idea I wanted to unstick from my head. I've brought up a couple times in other fic, Bruce trying to think of how he could have cleanly separated John from the Pact given everything else going on. And then I thought, what if it turned out Bruce was a little more obsessed than John was?


End file.
